


Lessons

by Lynse



Category: Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Dean isn't wholly convinced this is going to be successful, Gen, Lessons, One Shot, Post-Hunt, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, basically Sam and Dean are trying to make sure they have less work in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynse/pseuds/Lynse
Summary: Frankly, Dean had his doubts that Phantom and the Ninja were ever going to take this seriously.





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AzTheDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzTheDragon/gifts).



> The first paragraph is the [tumblr prompt](https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/post/170190899666/hey-you-doing-more-of-those-writing-prompts-if) from AztheDragon. (Thanks again!) I established that Danny and Randy know each other, so feel free to pretend this is post-[Reflections](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3622176/chapters/7996755). Standard disclaimers apply.

“Ghosts, demons, evil Sorcerers…. What’s next? Elemental spirits? Every single mythical creature of human legend? Gods and deities?”

Dean glared at the kid in the ninja costume. He and his ghost friend were sitting on Sam’s bed in the motel room while Dean sat on his own bed, surrounded by weaponry, and Sam was at the table with the laptop and the journal. “You laugh, but gods are even bigger di—”

“Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s admonishment. These guys were teenagers. A little foul language wasn’t going to scar them for life. And they had _superpowers_ , or near enough in Dean’s book. A ninja. A ghost. Both of whom he’d shot at before getting their stories straight, but Dean was past the point of hunting something just because it could be considered a monster. Not all of them were evil. The ninja kid might not be a monster, but the ghost definitely fell firmly into that category. And if he started icing people, well, Dean would pay him a visit at that point. Until then, he could keep doing what he was doing, as far as Dean was concerned. 

From the sounds of it, Phantom and the Ninja—the two still refused to give actual names; it was annoying as hell—had worked together before. Fine. Dean didn’t ask questions about that kind of thing. He and Sam had come to Norrisville on a demon hunt, found a little more than they’d bargained for, and hadn’t quibbled when the so-called town hero had offered to fill them in.

(In all fairness, Dean had been pointing a gun at the Ninja’s head at the time, but considering the kid had pulled a Houdini with those stinking smoke bombs before, Dean had known he’d be able to do it again, even with Sam flanking him.)

Dean hadn’t really thought they needed backup that wasn’t Cas, but the Ninja had insisted on calling in a friend—“It’ll be fine; it’s the weekend, so it’ll be easy for him to get away.”—and Castiel hadn’t been picking up his damn phone anyway. Sometimes, Dean wondered if the angel pretended ignorance for convenience’s sake.

“Y’know, in all fairness, I kinda _have_ dealt with elemental spirits before,” Phantom mused. “If Frostbite doesn’t count, Vortex or Undergrowth probably does. I mean, they’re not dead humans like Desiree or Ember, so I guess you could call them elemental spirits. They can control certain elements, anyway. I just mostly ended up dealing with the bad guys the same way as I do every other ghost.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the Tengu.”

“I thought you said the Tengu was a bird demon.”

“Well, if it is, then it’s a different kind of demon than whatever this was.”

“And you’re thinking the fireball thing.”

“Yeah, and—”

“But you know the Tengu’s real.”

“Sure, but these shoobs don’t. I mean…not necessarily. And—”

“Can we get back to the point?” Dean snapped. “This isn’t a frickin’ joke. People’s lives are on the line.”

“Dean’s right.” Sam’s tone was all gentle and placating despite the glare he was sending in Dean’s direction. “We’re not exaggerating. You deal with ghosts all the time,” he said with a nod to Phantom, “and you—” here he looked at the Ninja “—apparently have been dealing with a warlock—sorry, sorcerer—for years.”

“Centuries,” corrected the Ninja, as if Dean was really going to believe he’d been around that long. He’d _met_ witches and warlocks that were centuries old and had had enough dealings with angels and demons to know the type. This kid? Definitely not even in his twenties.

Sam was not dissuaded. “The point is, now you’ve run into demonic possession. We told you how to deal with that—”

“I have already forgotten that ritual,” interrupted the Ninja. “I mean, what was that, Greek?”

“I think it was Latin,” Phantom said with a shrug. “I dunno. I was going to ask Sam about it when I get back. She probably knows. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her doodling that symbol.”

“The _point_ —”

“Point is, you know other monsters are real,” Dean cut in. “So it would save guys like us—” he gestured to himself and Sam “—a helluva lot of trouble if you dealt with them when they cropped up on your home turf.”

Phantom caught Dean’s look and crossed his arms. He still refused to say where he was from. Also annoying as hell. But that feeling hadn’t really gone away for this entire hunt.

“Demonic possession doesn’t seem to be _too_ different from ghosts,” allowed Phantom at last as he uncrossed his arms and leaned back on the bed. “Just write out that stuff for me again and I’m sure I can figure it out if I need to.”

“Little more different than when someone’s stanked,” agreed the Ninja, “but I can wing it, and it’ll look super bruce when I do. Howard will totally think I’ve wonked his cheese. It’ll be great. You guys cool if I don’t tell him I got the info from you?”

If Dean still had even a fleeting thought that God actually cared, he might pray for strength. He and Sam had _never_ been that idiotic. Reckless, sure, until their cockiness nearly got someone killed, and that was gone in both of them by twelve even with trying to keep Sammy away from the worst of it. But these two….

Frankly, having seen them in a fight, Dean was pretty sure they’d be dead if they didn’t have superpowers. Or, in Phantom’s case, if he weren’t already dead. The Ninja’s attacks were sloppy, often leaving himself open, and he usually forgot to watch his back. Not to mention the fact that he _announced_ each attack. Phantom was more wasteful in his actions, expending too much energy at once and not caring if he got hit as long as he managed to get a hit in, too. He didn’t have much of a sense of timing; his typical strategy seemed to be to pour pure power into an attack and hit something for all he was worth.

Dean, being very human and not wanting to die (again) or watch Sam die (again), had questioned their partnership often over the last two days. Still, he had to admit that watching Phantom and the Ninja work together to create the Devil’s Trap—combining ice and fire powers—had been a satisfying, especially after that lowlife demon had managed to crack the concrete floor Sam had spray-painted the first one on earlier. But that demon was Crowley’s problem now, and Crowley was not going to be pleased to hear that some uppity crossroads demon thought he could garner favour by playing fast-and-loose with the rules.

Crowley might take every loophole for the opportunity it was, but he didn’t break the rules of his contracts. Broken contracts meant the souls were no longer bound and no longer destined for a date in hell in ten years or whatever the agreed upon time period was. Apparently, the demon had thought he could get around that with a separate verbal agreement, but that sort of thing didn’t hold up. Something about double dealing. Or maybe not sealing the deals appropriately. Frankly, Dean hadn’t cared. He’d just sent the sonnova bitch back to hell where he belonged.

It would’ve been an easier task if all the other, non-demonic possessions hadn’t been happening at the same time. What the Ninja had called stanking and the Phantom had not-so-helpfully explained as just a strong form of magical possession. But the Ninja didn’t seem to think Sam and Dean would actually be able to help him get rid of the warlock, no matter what they said, so it had been Sam’s bright idea to at least educate these guys so they’d know what to do if anything else showed up.

Dean was already regretting agreeing to this.

“Look, just listen, okay? We’ll run you through the basics. Don’t worry about trying to memorize it all right now—”

“Definitely wasn’t going to happen anyway,” said the Ninja, to which Phantom nodded his agreement.

“—because you can contact us if you run into something and need a refresher or some backup.” Sam got up from the table and handed each kid a business card. “Our numbers are on the back. The front, that’s a friend of ours, Jodi Mills. She’s the Sheriff in Sioux Falls. South Dakota,” he added at the blank looks on their faces. “If you can’t reach us, phone her. She’ll put you in touch with someone who can help.”

Both kids pocketed the card, though Dean didn’t see where. “Anyway. Enough chitchat. On to business. First up: vampires. It’s pretty straight forward. You just—”

“Drive a wooden stake through their heart,” said Phantom. “Everyone knows that.”

“That’s actually a popular misconception,” corrected Sam. “Truth is, you—”

“Garlic,” said the Ninja immediately. “Lots of it. You can garlic them to death.”

Dean heaved a sigh and met Sam’s eyes, knowing his expression conveyed exactly what he wanted to know. _Do we have to do this?_ But he knew Sam’s answering expression well. That was a _yes_. Well, more specifically, _Dude, if we don’t, we’re just going to regret it later, so suck it up_. 

Dean rolled his eyes before looking back at the kids. “You cut off their heads,” he said, overriding Phantom’s offer of ‘crucifix’. “I like a machete, but anything’ll do in the pinch. Sword, sickle, garrote, ice…thing.” Phantom was good with that ice; chances were, he could make something strong enough and sharp enough to do the job if he tried. “But if you’re trying to take down a vamp nest, you’ll wanna get your hands on some dead man’s blood.”

“On what?” the Ninja repeated. Phantom looked surprised but didn’t seem as disturbed by the idea, maybe because he’d have an easier time getting some in the first place.

“Dead man’s blood,” repeated Sam, even though Dean was certain the repetition was unnecessary. “Preferably, more than one syringe full. It’ll knock them out cold, usually for a couple of hours.”

“Uh huh,” the Ninja said slowly, “and when you say _nest_ , do you mean more of a cave, for when they’re bats? Are they more vulnerable at that point, being bats?”

Sam winced. “They can’t turn into bats, either. They _do_ have a retractable set of teeth, so when they bite someone, expect more than two puncture marks.” Sam went on to explain more of the signs, what to watch for, and Dean had to admit that the questions slowly got less inane and more intelligent as Sam started working his way through the most common monsters and the kids genuinely started to listen.

Dean wasn’t sure the kids believed them, of course. The Ninja had outright laughed when Dean had said Cas was an angel, even considering they were hunting a demon, and that crack at gods and deities made it clear the Ninja had never met any of them. (To be honest, Dean wished he hadn’t met a bunch of them, either, since none of the experiences had exactly been fun, but that was beside the point.) But it would be something, and if it meant someone lived, then that was surely worth this pain and suffering.

“Um, yeah, definitely gonna have to veto you on that one. Salt does _not_ work on ghosts.”

Probably.

“You wanna test that theory of yours, kid?” Dean asked. “I’ve got a bag of rock salt in the trunk. We can find out pretty quick.”

“Oh, I would bet money on this.” Phantom was grinning. “How about, um….”

“Dinner at McFlubbusters,” piped up the Ninja immediately. It was probably his favourite place—or at least one of them—and chances were he had forgotten that he was currently wearing a mask.

Still, Dean agreed to their terms. (Sam just sat there shaking his head, so Dean didn’t plan on letting him order dessert. Not that he would, anyway. He still did not appreciate the sanctity of pie.) He and Sam were due for a free dinner, anyway, even though he had doubts about whether Phantom or the Ninja would be able to cough up enough between them to cover one meal. But sometimes, it really is the thought that counts.


End file.
